


Why I'm Alive

by TigerbytheTail (CourtedByDeath)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Bloodplay, Diary/Journal, F/F, Mild S&M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:32:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourtedByDeath/pseuds/TigerbytheTail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small glimpse into the mind/journal Sera Moran, the greatest sniper in London and her relationship with Jemma Moriarty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why I'm Alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MD_Sora02](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MD_Sora02/gifts).



> So this is an AU genderswap of Jim and Sebastian - Aka Jemma Moriarty Sera Moran. The names are totally random sorry if you're disappointed. That's really all that's been changed. First person POV something like of like a Journal entry.

It was fast and painful - bloody but I wanted it. I wanted it more than anything. Watching Moriarty bring fingers and knife covered in the rich sanguine of my blood to equally red lips the world seemed to stop it’s spinning and my heart it’s beating - everything narrowed to the sight of her. Slightly manic, bordering on absolutely psychotic above me; humming, purring as her tongue lapped the slick crimson away from her pale slender fingers.

And in that moment I knew that I loved her. I loved her and that she was everything I needed. Everything I wanted, but at the same time I couldn’t stop questioning it. I couldn’t stop wondering why - why me, why? I wasn’t anything special. Sera Moran _is_ nothing - just a woman good with a gun with a compulsive need to follow orders, as I said I’m – nothing special or out of the ordinary. That’s all really. I just needed a job. I just needed something steady to ease the tremors in my gun hand, the itchy twitch of my trigger finger. And like Watson, I will willingly admit I missed the war, longed for it like it was a drug.

“Boss…”

I don’t get to finish, bloodied fingers press against my lips and I can taste the copper-metallic tang of the drying fluid. I’m not adverse to it either, with her eyes on me like that - dark pools I’m trapped in, drowning in their fathomless depths; then again so is she, lost in them, trapped in her own mind with all the demons there. Parting my lips taking her fingers into my mouth to lick and suck them clean.

I love her more like this, even more than when she’s lucidly sane. I love her twisted, beautifully broken and unhinged. I don’t know why but it’s perfect this way, when she’s straddling my hips; skirt up high along her thighs; wrinkling up higher by her hips, chuckling at something only she understands. “I always knew you were a blood-thirsty little tiger. You look good - good in red /so/ good, especially when it’s your own and I put it there.”

I can feel it, one of her fingers tracing then digging into the jagged cuts over my left collar bone and I like it. Fuck, everyone and everything else. Our relationship isn’t for the faint of heart - we’re both sadistic, mentally disturbed individuals. No one else could understand us: we’re broken people, but we fit together; jagged, rough edges, to razor sharp points - so beautifully.

I had traded one war, one drug for another but as my fingers found purchase on the back of her neck and I pulled her down into a kiss I realized that Jemma Moriarty had become what someone had once told me I needed, that she was my _raison d’être_ and I was fine with that. If she wished for my blood she could have it. My body, my life and soul it was all there on a silver platter for her to take and I would have it no other way.

So now with the jagged J and M carved into my skin; digging in deep into the muscle I knew I’d found that thing, that place and person that would be in my life until the end – whether she ended my life or it was ended in service of her goals that didn’t matter, would never matter. I belonged to her, completely absolutely.

But so too did Jem belong to me, she just didn’t know it yet. I would be the one to protect and defend her. To kill and bleed for her, no other in the world could make that boast or I'd take them out painfully. No one else would ever understand her, love her like I do; they couldn’t possibly. All she's got and all she needs is me.

_\- S. Moran_


End file.
